


Now I Don't Hardly Know Him (But I Think I Could Love Him)

by tomfoolery14



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Human, Closeted Character, First Meetings, Fluff, Law Student Alec Lightwood, M/M, Psychic Magnus Bane, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomfoolery14/pseuds/tomfoolery14
Summary: In the 1960s, almost everything is changing. Alec Lightwood is no exception. One evening in a nightclub might be the catalyst.





	Now I Don't Hardly Know Him (But I Think I Could Love Him)

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea why i wrote this but i just felt inspired too while i was listening to crimson and clover by tommy james and the shondells

As Alec leaned against the bar, tapping a nervous rhythm against his empty glass, the old familiar unease made his shoulder tense protectively. _One of these things is not like the other_, he sang to himself in his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The party scene was never really his inclination. Usually he only went to nightclubs as a favor to someone else—by invitation, for an event or celebration, or to keep an eye on his barely-legal siblings that took to the nightlife like fish to water. Besides, it wasn’t a lie that he usually didn’t have the time to spend on it anyway, being in his third year at NYU studying law. “Alec doesn’t have time for fun,” his mother had once said to his siblings in his defense. “He’s going to join Grandfather’s law firm and start his life.”

What constituted his Life with a capital L wasn’t exactly what his parents understood it to be, they just didn’t know it yet. Maybe they never would. But that was what brought him here despite everything to the contrary. Boys weren’t meant to fall in love with and marry boys, spending their lives together until they were old and grey in a cookie-cutter house in the suburbs with a backyard and a white picket fence with 2.3 children and a dog. But that was what the American Dream looked like when Alec let himself think about it late at night as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t normal and he knew that, but nothing else felt right no matter how hard he tried. So he had started setting aside one evening a week to go

out and wait for something, someone, to happen.

But no matter how many times he did this, he still felt stiflingly aware that he didn’t quite belong here, like this.

“Can I get a refill please?” he asked the bartender, holding out his glass.

A Manhattan or two would hopefully give him the courage it would take to actually look at the men around him, to feel like he could seek without the usual heaviness of guilt on his shoulders. Looking around him at the glowing colored lights that swept across sweat slick bodies, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to feel so unhindered.

As Alec’s eyes trailed over dancing figures, something made him stop. A man, more beautiful than anyone he’d ever seen with his own eyes, moving his body syrupy slow and smooth as he raked his fingers through loose strands of black hair that fell across his damp forehead. He was in the middle of the dancefloor, and as far as Alec was concerned, that was where he belonged—at the center of attention. His black and maroon paisley print button up had only the bottom two buttons still done up, loosely tucked into the waistband of his black bellbottoms. Multicolored love beads dripped down his bare chest and came to a point just above his navel, and his fingers were adorned with rings that caught the club lights.

When his eyes flicked up, they suddenly met Alec’s gaze. Beautiful eyes, Alec noted, especially with the black kohl smudged around them. For a seemingly eternal moment, they just looked at one another, and it felt like the movement in the room slowed to leave only the two of them in sharp reality together. And then he smiled at Alec, lips pressed together and curling up as his chin dipped down slightly.

So Alec did what came naturally to him—panicked and broke the tether that bound them by abruptly turning back to his drink. Staring down at the swirling amber liquid, he wondered if it were possible to drown himself in it. He made a fool of himself.

Downing the last of his drink, he pushed off the bar and weaved through throngs of drunk and high patrons to move towards the bathroom. A cloud of thick smoke and the sweet scent of grass hit him like a truck as soon as he opened the door, and he vaguely wondered if he would be able to get a contact high off of it. Whoever had smoked it was gone, their discarded joint still smoldering faintly on the tile floor where it had been stomped out. Alec anchored his hands on the edge of the sink basin and turned on the faucet.

His head was starting to get fuzzy from the alcohol, and his surroundings sometimes appeared to be spinning if he moved too quickly. He splashed some cold water on his face and drank a bit for good measure before straightening up to look at himself in the mirror. “What am I doing?” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

Alec dried off his hands and shouldered the bathroom door open, narrowly avoiding a couple deep in the throes of passionate kissing. Two men, fingers tangled in each other’s hair and hands pulling at shirts as they careened into the nearest bathroom stall like a natural disaster.

The glass partition that separated the bathrooms from the rest of the nightclub refracted the colored lights onto his skin in various patches of color. Turning his palm over, Alec looked down at the way it colored his skin. It was oddly intriguing. “Contact high,” he laughed softly to himself, slowly rolling his wrist to inspect the way the colors moved.

The song changed to something mellow, something vaguely familiar, and Alec looked up from his hand to the glass partition to see that someone was now standing on the other side. It was the man he’d seen on the dancefloor, now cradling a drink with a joint hanging from his lips. Up close he was somehow even more exquisite.

Seeming to feel Alec’s stare, the man looked over from the dancefloor to look at him. He smiled the same smile from earlier in the night, and this time Alec just looked back for a moment. “Are you going to run, or should I?” he asked in a low, teasing tone.

“Uh, sorry about that,” Alec replied, moving out from behind the divide. “I didn’t mean to—you know.”

The man laughed, holding out the joint to Alec like a peace offering. “It’s cool, pretty boy. Take it easy.”

“Alec. I’m Alec.”

“I’m Magnus.” He stepped closer, purposefully tapping his boot coyly against Alec’s. Chelsea versus Chukka. From head to toe, Alec was plain by comparison in his black polo and houndstooth slacks all the way down to his pinky ring. “You look a little hung up. Not a regular here?”

The nervous laugh was probably answer enough but Alec still replied. “No, not exactly.” He felt too still, and brought the joint to his lips for a long drag to occupy himself before holding it back out for Magnus.

Magnus’s hand lingered for a beat longer than was purely necessary as he took it from his hand. “Hmm… I’m going to guess that you’re a college boy. Medical school, maybe?”

“Law, actually. What about you?”

“Part time demonstrator.”

“And the other part?”

Magnus grinned. “I’m a psychic.”

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Alec searched the man’s face for any indication that he was being played. He looked amused by Alec’s response, but he didn’t appear to be mocking.

“You’re a psychic?”

Stamping out the joint, Magnus held both hands out to Alec. “Give me your right hand, palm up.”

With a shrug, Alec complied, resting the back of his hand against Magnus’. He was warm and soft.

Magnus placed his free hand on top and closed his eyes, standing perfectly still for a few seconds. “You’re the oldest sibling, with the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. You come from money but it’s not what you want for yourself. You’re…starting the journey of life but you’re not sure how to find what it is that you want because you’ve never given yourself the freedom to find out.” Releasing their grip, he reopened his eyes with a triumphant look on his face.

“So…you’re actually a psychic?” Alec pressed.

“You tell me, pretty boy. How did I do?”

He pursed his lips contemplatively then nodded in assent. “Oldest of four kids. My parents come from money and made a lot of their own but…I want something more. And life is really just a question mark for me right now. So I guess signs point to yes.”

“Don’t look so disappointed.” Magnus took a swig of his drink then wiped his thumb along his lower lip. “You’re welcome to try poking more holes in my credibility if you like. I do tarot readings. Maybe over drinks.”

Alec was rendered speechless. Magnus had asked him on a date. Magnus had asked him on a date? He opened his mouth to try to formulate a reply when a small ring in Magnus’ right earlobe caught his eye. “The gay ear,” Alec heard himself say, and as soon as it was out, he wished he could shove it back in. Even his ears felt hot with embarrassment.

Magnus laughed, a beautiful and happy sound, and reached up to touch the ring. “I was asking you on a date, Alexander, yes.”

“Alexander?”

With a slightly intoxicated flourish, Magnus turned and looked at Alec over his shoulder. “I’m psychic, remember? Let’s split—I always crave a burger when I get high, care to join?” His long, nimble fingers reached for Alec, beckoning him to follow with a slight bend at the knuckle.

A warm feeling bloomed in Alec’s stomach when he took his hand, and he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. Something deep inside, something he maybe never even knew resided in him, settled. He was freer than he’d been in a long time, and it felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://royaltybane.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/dia__bee)


End file.
